


The Fall

by DeeNuke



Category: 19 Days, 19天, 19天 - Old先 | 19 Days - Old Xian
Genre: 19 Days old xian, 19 days - Freeform, 19 days alternate universe, 19 days angel/demon AU, 19天 - Freeform, 19天 - old先, 19天 AU, 19天 Alternate Universe, 19天 贺顶红, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Angel Wings, Angel/Demon AU, Angel/Demon Relationship, Broken Wings, He Tian (19 Days) - Freeform, He Tian (19天), Heavenly Mountain - Freeform, Hurt Mo Guan Shan, Love, M/M, Mo (19 Days), Mo Guan Shan (19 Days) - Freeform, Mo Guan Shan (19天), angel!Mo - Freeform, angel!Mo Guanshan, demon he tian, demon!hetian - Freeform, kiss, old先, 莫关山 - Freeform, 賀天 - Freeform, 贺顶红 - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:00:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29539962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeeNuke/pseuds/DeeNuke
Summary: A 19 Days Angel/Demon AU: Angel!Mo & Demon!He Tian
Relationships: 19天 贺顶红 - Relationship, He Tian & Mo Guanshan (19 Days), He Tian/Mo Guan Shan, He Tian/Mo Guanshan (19 Days), HeTian/MoGuanShan, Hetian/Mo, TianShan, angel Mo Guan Shan, angel!Mo, demon He Tian - Relationship, demon!Hetian, heavenly mountain, 贺顶红 - Relationship
Comments: 10
Kudos: 95





	The Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a tiny piece of art done by @harucchiyan (on IG)

A large, tall tree was standing guard outside the grotto. It had thick, heavy laden branches and even thicker roots that coiled and twisted inside the ground and above it, like the tentacles of an ancient fossil, now simply frozen in time. The forest was even more luxuriant there, the opening of the cave well hidden behind those roots, tall grass and, green ivy. There were no tracks that could lead to its entrance, at least not for a long time now. The rain, growing shrubbery, and time itself had long hidden those traces from any spying eye. The bright and dark greens were mixing into a lush scenery dotted with the golden sparks of the fireflies that started to buzz around the moment the sun had decided to hide its face under the horizon.

On a sunny day, if one would stand on the highest mound near the cave, they could see the golden rays of the setting sun glimmering through the branches. From that point on, the ground was evening out, just very lightly going up into a slant right before the grotto. More, tall, leafy trees were growing around the area, reaching towards the sky, blotching the light and hiding the cave even better. Birches, elms, sassafrases, hickories, and here and there, a sturdy oak just like the one that was guarding and marking the mouth to the cave. Here, the ground was speckled with huge boulders covered in a blanket of verdant moss as though no one had stepped foot into that place in ages, yet despite its beauty, no sounds of any living creature could be heard.

It had been a while since the rain had started, and it did not look like it was going to stop anytime soon. The skies were grey, heavy with clouds, but the air was crisp and clean and smelled of fresh-cut grass and pine trees. Hidden inside the gloom of the cave, the angel listened to the sound of the drops hitting the leaves. Somehow, it reminded him of his long lost home, though he could not remember it ever rained there. Maybe it was the silence, or the peace that came with that stillness, the blissful oblivion his kind experienced in those heavenly palaces they dwelled in. But he had not seen those in far too long, that place was lost to him now, and he would never be able to return. Strangely how his mind was starting to forget their beauty and now lingered more on the memories he had made since his return on Earth.

If he was to close his eyes, he could almost touch it. But yet again, that thought was less fulfilling than what he had experienced on Earth. Here he could feel the freshness of the breeze on his face, smell the scent of the trees, the grass, the flowers and the stone. That thought made the angel look up for a second and even ponder. His eyes turned towards the exit of the cave as though he longed to see the light again. He remained still, though, not sure if he was allowed to feel that hopeful or even daring, then turning his head, he averted his gaze back to the ground beneath his dirty feet. He had no place in the world outside either; that small cave was his home now and, one day, it would become his grave as well.

But those beautiful things had not been the only ones he had experienced. Down here he had met him, a demon. He had come to him in the form of a human, tall and handsome, with dark hair and piercing grey eyes. He was cunning, sly, and eager to explore the world as though each day was his last, but above all, he was free... and freedom had not been something the angel had guessed he needed to feel.

That demon had shown him things he had never dreamt of seeing... and what was worse, made him feel things he had never thought he would or could allow himself to feel. Feelings, in the end, were not the domain of an angel. As beings, they lived in eternal contentment - with a light heart and abandoning of their will; you did not need more than peace because you had earned that. But once they experienced feelings, once that flame was lit in their hearts, they longed for more like no other creature. That was why it was forbidden for them to return to Earth, and that is what the angel had finally realised; this was his death and he had been deceived.

Neck craned and eyes lowered, holding the sides of his head in his hands, the angel remained still. He did not know what hurt him the most, how he had deprived himself of that demon's touch, his kisses, his sweet, intoxicating words, his lust for everything that meant life, a life he did not possess anymore, or the way he had reduced himself - a ruin of the bright being he had once been.But in the end, it mattered little, he could not return home, yet he could not live in the world he had now chosen either for he had fallen. His wings were broken, shedding their feathers one by one like beasts that shed their skin at the turn of the season. Now all that was left of them were remnants of his once majestic wings. He could no longer soar to the sky, now bound to crawl like an insect in the dirt instead.

And so the time had passed for him. Hours turned to days, days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. As far as he was concerned, he could have been there for years. The truth, though, was that he did not know how long he had been hiding, but probably long enough to feel the wounds on his body. There was the chafe of his flimsy wings, their weight sometimes unbearable, and fragments of bloodied mud sticking to his skin. He reeked of honeydew, dead leaves and mouldy pine, yet, now and again, his own flowery scent, its fresh and sweet aroma would tickle his nostrils. He was not fully lost yet, but soon he would. That thought gave him comfort, just as the thought that he was not alone in that cave. During night hours, he would feel something bump against his leg, a small animal or maybe a snake, but his stillness would drive away any predator just as the dirt and mud had hidden his tracks and smell long ago.

With a soft sigh, the angel crossed his arms onto his bended knees, leaning his forehead against them. Stillness again, he exhaled slowly, smelling the flowery scent that suddenly wafted into the air. How long until he would fully disappear? What was going to happen then? Would he just vanish? Become human? Or just a _‘thing’_ trapped between unseen worlds? The thoughts came and went until a chill finally made him shudder, making him flinch. Then he slowly started to feel it, a lingering presence, tendrils reaching towards him from the hidden corners of the cave, shifting over his skin like a dark caress. He shuddered once more, his amber coloured eyes briefly flashing as he shifted to the side, looking around him. There was no one there, but he knew the feeling, the presence that now crawled and moved around him; it was the demon he had spent way too many centuries with - he had been found.

“There you are…,” the angel heard the familiar voice, the guttural echo in his words as though it reverberated with the sound of ten thousand hollow caves or Hell itself. “I’ve been looking for you for months…,” the demon spoke again and when the angel looked up he saw a pair of fiery eyes staring back at him from inside two dark sockets.

Jaws clenching, the angel swallowed hard and sighed, trying to move away from those dark tendrils. “That’s not _that_ long then…,” he replied, his voice tired, “we don’t die, remember? Months are mere seconds to us,” he added and averted his eyes as though he was ashamed to be seen like that.

“Not to me…,” the demon swiftly answered, shifting around the angel as though he was swimming, an agile fish in dark waters playing with its prey. “When you’re missing, I feel time differently,” he added, his fiery gaze turning into the icy pale grey, like the cooled down ashes of a campfire in the morning hours.

Blinking the angel looked up, briefly trying to make sense of the demon’s words, but then gave up, just shook his head, and sighed. He once again felt the coldness of his touch crawl across his skin, winced, and shifted yet again as the chill moved down his spine. Was it coldness or something else? It burned, prickled his skin so painfully that he wanted to scream, yet he could not move away from that aching caress. When did it become an ache anyway? It had not been like that in the beginning. Though the angel realised, he had missed feeling him around him, just as much he had missed hearing that ghostly voice of his, his words laced with promises and so much longing. That is what had drawn him to the demon in the first place. When he talked about the world, there was no malice in his words, nor envy, but regret and that painful longing the angel had come to recognise in him as though the dark creature had left behind something that had never should. 

“You don’t like to be touched anymore?” the demon spoke, his eyes fixed on the angel, his face coming closer as though he wanted to inspect him better, guess what he was thinking. He sniffed the air, then suddenly stopped with a soft gasp and a look of shock twisted his face. The smell was gone, that flowery perfume the angel had always had to him was now gone, replaced by a musky, earthy scent. “What happened to you?” the demon asked, but before he could have an answer he finally noticed the dark smears on the ground. There were patches of dry blood, some old, covered by dust and grime, some new enough that he could smell them, the scent of iron so fresh he could taste it on his tongue.

“Blood…” he whispered and pulled away from the angel, looking at him, long, clawed fingers grasping the shoulders of the withering creature in front of him. “Who did this?” he hissed, and anger made his eyes flare again. “I’ll kill them myself!” his voice echoed with rage, but as sudden as it came, it also washed over him, and dwindled. There were no wounds on the angel’s body, so the demon moved around him again, trying to understand what had befallen the angel, only to finally see the cause. Resting on the ground like discarded limbs, crumbled and twisted, the wings laid broken, dirty feathers scattered around him like the plumes of a torn pillow.

The demon's eyes shot open in terror as he gently lifted a wing in his hands, “Who did this to you?” he demanded an answer once again, but instead of one, he met the angel’s defeated expression.

“I don’t know….,” the angel answered, but kept his eyes lowered. "You...," he paused, "or me...," he sniffed, but then chose to remain in silence, nibbling on his lower lip, refusing to say more. He knew who had done that, but how could he say it out loud, admit to a demon that he had been so utterly defeated by his feelings to the point of falling. That was what would befall an angel if they would feel again if they would escape the prison of their blessed existence. If one would descend to Earth again, their grace would break, or thin out somehow, making them susceptible to the corruption of the world and the call of the demons, who above all, desired the light of the angels, feeding on their grace. The falling was not just abandoning one's existence by sheer will, it was the slow poisoning of the heart, and he had let it happen the moment he had fallen under that demon’s spell, the moment he had chosen to love him.

“Who did this?” the demon shouted, and this time he grabbed the angel’s chin in his hand, turning his head towards him. “Mo, who did this to you?”

“Mo?” the angel blinked confused at the demon’s word choice. “Have you named me now?” he asked and turned his head away, slapping the demon’s hand away from him, then gently massaging his jaw.

Pausing, the demon pursed his lips a little then sighed, “Yes…,” he answered, “sort of…,” he continued, his answer making the angel look up once more.

“Ah, so this is yet another game?” he bitterly smiled but felt those flashing eyes turn to him. He gazed at him for a bit, trying to guess what he was witnessing, hoping to finally see his true colours, the malice he had always thought he would find in creatures of his kind, but once again, he had found none of that, but regret and... worry. Confused, the angel looked away, trying to shift away from him. He was so weak that he couldn't even blink properly anymore.

“If you want to call it that...," the demon suddenly spoke, "do as you please, but if I remember correctly, that was the name of the human you once were…,” he said and sniffed. “It got you your wings and a place in that boring Heaven of yours with all your martyrdom you’ve pulled before you lived, no?” he half chuckled, but suddenly stopped and just sighed.

Averting his eyes, the angel nodded as though he had finally remembered something then sighed. “Mo…,” he whispered and swallowed hard. “I forgot you sometimes mock me with such out of place stories," he sniffed, "I do not remember any of that,” Mo sighed and winced as yet another feather broke off his wing. The pain was bearable most times, but it would intensify each time he would think he deserved that torture, a punishment for falling in love with a demon - after all, was that not the reason for his blight?

“Mock you?” the demon glared, swiftly shifting on the other side of the angel. “When have I ever done that, little Mo?” he smiled, sweetly now, wanting to make the angel react somehow, taunting him every chance he got.

Looking up, Mo briefly glanced at the demon then sighed. As far as he could tell the demon had never lied to him, but then again, he could not know, and yet he could not accuse him of anything either. Part of their heavenly blessing was to forget the mortal life they once had, it was a gift that granted one peace.

“I guess that serves me right,” Mo finally said, “I mean, look at me now…,” he faintly grunted, tiredly wrapping one of his wings around his shoulder. “What a mighty angel I am, no?” he gave the demon a defeated smile. “Do you remember the days when we were human?” he suddenly asked, “What was your name back then? What were you?” he blinked, now mildly curious of what it had been as he had never heard that story before, for the demon had always had incredible stories to tell him.

Pursing his lips a little, the demon moved closer, like the shadow that inches closer to the dial when the sun moves in the sky. “Vaguely…,” the demon lied and huffed, not sure what to make of Mo's questions. Was he trying to find out more or was just playing along to avoid the answer he was looking for? “Why?” the demon asked, his eyes moving once again to his wilting wings. 

“I am simply curious, maybe I can understand better what made me fall…,” he added, his eyes for a second flashing with hate, but then it was gone just as it had come and he shrank in defeat once more.

“Fall?!” the demon looked around confused, but then back at the angel’s wings. Carefully reaching out he touched them, then his eyes lowered. “You did not fall… this is not how you fall…,” he said, his voice worried. “If you fall...," he went on, his eyes once more turning to look at the angel, "they will make sure you know what you have done. You will pay for it if you choose to leave them, they will make you remember it was your doing,” he said silently as though he knew what he was talking about. “They will rip your wings off so they can make you feel a pain they deem equal to the shame you marked them with…,” he kept talking, while still inspecting the wings of the angel. 

Listening, Mo sighed, and without a word, he picked a feather up from the ground. It was smeared in blood, dust sticking to it. “Maybe they decided that my agony should be different, that my punishment is this, to wither away like a feeble flower…,” he said and dropped the feather, but watched the demon’s dark, tainted hands catch it, gently closing his clawed, long fingers over it as though he had caught something very precious to him. Why was he like that? He was rash and loud and obnoxious most of the time, so bold it sometimes scared him, but now it felt like the angel's pain had softened him. It did not make things easier for Mo, he had to hate him, had to... and maybe like this, he would gain his wings back.

They both remained in silence, then the demon spoke again. “You want to know the truth?” he asked and saw Mo instantly look up at him.

“I do…,” Mo answered and watched the demon still holding that feather.

“Then know this…,” the demon spoke, his voice a low rumble, “that I lied when I said I don’t remember…,” he sniffed and saw Mo shake his head as though he had expected to hear that from him. “I know my life before I became what I am now…,” he added and gingerly put the feather down at Mo’s feet.

“My name was Tian and I was a noble…,” he started, and for a moment their eyes met. “I cannot say I led a life that made me proud," he chuckled, "but one day I fell in love with someone," he sniffed, "someone who was not of my status, and thus I doomed him,” he continued, calmly, but regret was etched onto his twisted features. “I know now what I knew back then, too, something I did not dare to do when the time came…," he continued, despite feeling the angel's amber eyes on him. He did not return his gaze, feeling as though he would falter if he was going to stop now, so he shifted again and continued. "I should have saved him…,” the demon sniffed, then glided towards the wall of the cave as though he was nervous and he could not stay still.

“Who was he?” the angel asked, but met the demon’s glare, a wave of anger washing over him that instantly melted away when their eyes met. He had seen that look in his eyes before, rarely, but he was familiar with it, sadness, such a rare sight to see in a demon.

“Not a noble, not by rank anyway...," the demon said, "but he has been noble enough to save my life back then, though by doing so he died… and I lived. I lived to lead a bad life, following orders I should have not just because I thought I had no choice,” he bitterly smiled. “He gave his life in vain for me, and I did not honour his sacrifice as I should have, and it’s too late to make amends…,” he added and looked back at the angel. “When I finally died, I was granted this…,” he looked down at himself, “a form that would allow me to do even more harm…,” he sadly chuckled. “Luckily, we're, let's say blessed, with something you angels have not, the choice, because you see, you cannot roam the Earth doing evil without a choice...," he stretched his long form, and for a moment, Mo thought he saw that shapeless darkness take on an appearance. 

Blinking a couple of times, Mo drew in a deep breath. Whatever trick the demon had pulled on him, it had poked something in his numb mind and something like a memory trickled out. There was something familiar in the shape the demon took as though he knew those long arms, knew the scars that marked his body, the face that was now turned towards his. The thought made him shudder, and the demon's voice, continuing his story, made him snap out of his thoughts.

"W-why?" Mo stuttered, feeling panic swirl inside his stomach.

"Why?" the demon smiled, "because it would limit our power to come up with greater evils…,” the demon sniggered, "if we would be bound by the same boring laws as angels, we could not create all these devious ways of trapping the souls of the humans. Ah, and they're so inventive when it comes to their greed and needs...," the demon made a small sound and grinned, but then quickly cleared his throat. “But this is not about me or them, but about you...," he added and turned his gaze on the angel. "As I was saying, I died... and... and you got your wings when you saved me…," he concluded and stood in what it looked like a sitting position. "Do you remember now?” he suddenly said and saw Mo swallow hard.

Yes, Mo could remember now as though the demon's words had cracked open something inside his mind, letting out a flood of memories. He thought he would feel overwhelmed by all that, but instead, each feeling that sprung from a memory found its way in his mind, making things clearer, his feelings suddenly justified, his mind less blurry and scattered. Though, he could not let _‘Tian’_ know he could remember.“What?” the angel shifted lightly only to wince once more as another feather fell as though plucked forcefully by an invisible entity. 

“Yes, you are Mo…,” the demon sighed, “and I am Tian,” he added, confirming the memory in Mo’s mind. “Or we were as we are not anymore, and we were lovers, you got your wings and I got stuck here,” he tried to smile, “they took you away and we were separated once again. I thought that once I died I would follow, I would finally be able to see you… be with you again just as we promised, remember?" he insisted, that desperate look in his eyes making Mo shiver. "But…,” Tian stopped and shook his head, “but no, my punishment was to know you dwelled in a place I would never reach with no memory of me,” he let out a bitter chuckle. “Cunning bastards, your fellow angels," he grunted, "and that’s how it was for millennia…,” the demon smiled now, “until one day you somehow decided to step down here," he said, and hope shone in his icy eyes.

Remaining silent, Mo pondered, trying to put together the puzzle that had suddenly unfolded. It was outrageous, but then again, it was not. That was how the story went, you do good, you go to Heaven, you do evil, you go to Hell, but in between all that, there was so much he had never known as a mortal... or as an angel. If that was true, the one who would know these things was indeed a demon. And if Tian was right, and he had been left with a choice, they could do as they wished, but without the consequences of 'betraying' their essence as angels did.

“See…,” Mo’s thoughts suddenly got interrupted by Tian’s voice, “the thing with demons is that we don’t forget our life…,” he sighed. “We are left with the memories of our mistakes, doomed to dwell on them for eternity, to feel those wounds we got while living and those we inflicted on others tenfold. We're doomed to feel every loss like it has just happened, doomed to see the end of all beautiful things over and over and over again…,” he bitterly smiled now.

Taking in those words, Mo pondered more then finally spoke, "A balance must be kept in all things...," he said silently, his hand reaching out for Tian's cheek, finally allowing himself to touch him again. "You're not bound to your darkness, but your pain instead...," he blinked. "Because the punishment is so great, you are left with choice and choice itself cannot be punished, only the deeds of that choice are...," he whispered to himself as though he had realised something.

"And my judgment has been already set," Tian grinned when he heard Mo, briefly burying his cheek in Mo's hands like a cat that wanted attention from its master. His hands closed over Mo’s, and he sighed deeply. ”And I'm already damned, what more can they do?” he whispered, turning his head and kissing Mo’s palms. “Send me back to being a human? Send me to Heaven? With you?" he stopped then, looked up and sniffed, "actually... that would be bad, I would forget about you...," he said silently and shuddered.

"But wouldn't that be a blessing?" Mo asked, his eyes meeting Tian's, his head tilting to the side as he spoke, his hand still on him, and the more he kept it there, the more he felt the shape of him underneath his fingertips.

“No!" Tian vigorously shook his head, his eyes determined, "I relived your death for so long, Mo. I felt the heaviness of your dying body in my arms like it happened back then, watched the life being stolen from you until I could not bear it anymore… That is my biggest sin and my biggest burden; that I’ve allowed you to die instead of me…,” he lowered his eyes now. “But...," he shook his head again, "knowing I would lose the memory of you is greater of torture than seeing you go. I know that me dying instead of you would not have brought me redemption, but it would have… been the right thing, the rightest I could have done in my miser life back then… yet… I’ve let you die for me…,” he paused, his ashy eyes turning towards the angel again, “and now I get to see you die again…,” Tian added and sighed as he glanced again at Mo's broken wings.

He remained silent, fearful even. He could still feel the moment Mo had died with every part of his body, every corner of his mind. All things soft, beautiful, and bright had been buried with his lover. The light in the world had faded and a neverending night shrouded in sorrow drowned him. It had been like that then, and it was no different now, and if he was not going to do something, he was going to experience it all over again. 

There was a long moment of silence, then Mo’s shoulders slouched. He could tell that Tian’s gaze was on him, his eyes burning just like his touch. But at that moment he understood then what had befallen him. He had come to Earth, heeding the call of his long lost lover, and it was then when he had met that demon. Tian had recognised him and he had come to him. Everything he had shown him was merely to make him remember his past, their life together. Wherever he went, the demon would follow, lurking in the shadows, as though they were bound by an invisible thread. Long years had passed for the living, but for them, it felt like mere seconds, mere seconds where the deviousness of the devil would somehow put a smile on Mo’s face, while the demon would flock to his light like a moth to a candle.

“I felt your presence when you came back…,” Tian suddenly said, confirming Mo's thoughts. “You probably did not, but you knew I was not going to go away the moment I found you…,” he grinned a little now.

Hearing him, Mo smiled and nodded, “Yes, you stuck like glue, and I could not shake you off even if I wanted to…,” he said and sniffed, “but we both know I didn’t want you to go away…,” he added, and a soft caress washed over him. For that brief moment, the pain he felt vanished; the wings did not feel heavy nor painful and Mo let out a soft, shuddering breath. “If what you say is true…,” he faintly chuckled, “you are going to be the death of me again.”

Blinking, Tian pulled away a little, but not because of his words. He had seen something, the soft light that moved over Mo’s scared body. It vanished now, but it had been there, the same light he had seen in him shine through all the hardships of his mortal life, the same light that granted him redemption when he had given his life for him. As though he understood what was going on, Tian inched closer. “Why?” he suddenly asked as though he wanted to test the thought he just had.

“Why?” Mo looked up, mild confusion etched on his face. “Is it pride that makes you want my confession, demon?” he asked and tried to move away.

“It's Tian for you!" he said and sighed, "stop calling me that as though I'm just a thing, especially now that you know the truth," he shook his head as though he was annoyed. "But yes, anything...,” the demon insisted,“why did you not want me to go?” he kept probing for an answer, his hands hovering over those broken wings.

“I… don’t know…,” Mo answered, then looked away.

“Yes, you do…," Tian didn't give up, "now tell me…,” he continued, gliding behind the angel, hands hovering, but not daring to touch.

Pausing, Mo turned his head and looked over his shoulder at his plucked wings, then back at the demon. Was it worth it to admit it? Or was it worth it to deny the answer? He realised that the outcome would be the same in the end either way; he was going to lose his wings no matter what and with that his life as well.

“I have fallen for you…,” Mo finally admitted. "I've come to love you... again and I didn't want to leave your side, and I didn't want you to leave mine...," he sighed deeply and tried to open his wings. But now, instead of pain, he moved them with ease, but only briefly, yet again, that soft comfort he had felt before, washed over him once more. “Just as I have fallen back then when I was called Mo Guan Shan, I have fallen for you again, yet another demon to haunt me for eternity,” he sadly chuckled, and once more, calm washed over him, the ache dissolving from his body. 

Tian remained in silence though, watching. He had not imagined things; instead, he watched how that light, the angel’s grace returned to him each time he was truly admitting he had feelings. Bright feathers were replacing the fallen ones, soft and white, glittering in the darkness, yet Mo seemed still oblivious to it.

“You have brought me death back then…,” Mo continued, his eyes lost for a moment, “and now you have cost me my wings, my grace… all that I am…,” he added, anger swirling in his stomach, but then his shoulders slouched and he lowered his eyes again. “It matters little…,” he confessed, “I cannot even say I regret it…,” he said and Tian watched in amazement the soft glow of his wings.

“Why?” the demon shifted again, standing before Mo now, reaching out to gently lift his chin to make him look at him. 

“Because I did not regret my choice back then… and I do not regret my choice now…,” Mo said and covered his face in his hands. “If I need to lose my wings to be by your side, then so be it…” he added and exhaled as though he had expected an axe to come down and sever his head. But instead of that, warmth swirled in his stomach, soft and soothing, moving through his limbs, and slowly the ache stopped hurting, the thoughts stopped prickling and the doubts dissolved like snow on a spring day. He heard a flutter, and it took him a moment to realise it was the beating of his own wings, wanting to stretch, but now cramped inside that tiny cave he crawled into.

When he looked up, he saw Tian grin at him, proudly so at that.

“Took you a while…,” he happily chuckled and moved around him like an excited child, but then sank against Mo's back, sighing as he felt his warm skin against him. "I thought I would never hear those words again...," he whispered and crossed his arms over Mo's chest, leaning his chin against his shoulder. "You're back...," he finally closed his eyes, sighing in relief.

Smiling to himself, Mo nodded lightly, "I am... even if we don't even know what that means for us."

“You don't have to be the brave one every time…,” Tian said and smiled now, softer, just as he remembered him when they would sneak out of the castle and into the woods, away from prying eyes. “I know you wanna make it right, but it’s not like I’ll be left behind now…,” he laughed, his eyes on the wings again, “Look at that…,” he marvelled, leaning in and smelling the air, breathing in deeply the heady aroma. It was a thick smell of nectar, one he had come to recognise as being Mo’s alone. 

Sure, each angel had its own scent, but he knew Mo’s just as quickly as he had felt his presence. He realised then that it was how he had lost him all those months, too. The perfume had vanished as though the moment the angel had realised he had fallen, that he was still able to feel and not succumb to the oblivion of his heaven, he had decided to punish himself and wither.

“Your grace was never gone, angel…,” Tian said, tilting his head to the side, “but you were about to kill it yourself by lingering in your own misery. You designed a Hell for yourself, the quickest way for a celestial like you to die," he added with a sigh.

"It's Mo for you," the angel smiled then, hearing the words, he nodded. Moving his wings, he stretched a little, cautiously so, still fearing the ache he would usually feel when he moved. “And here I thought you were the darkness that followed me…,” Mo said, reaching out and taking Tian’s hand in his, his fingers interlacing with his. His eyes lingered on those claws, and he sighed. “Does my touch burn you?”

“It never did,” Tian grinned widely, “and if it ever will, well… a bit of heavenly grace won’t kill me, no?” he chuckled. 

“So… what now?” Mo asked and looked around them.

“Now? Well, now you stop moping about what has been and what it could have been and maybe leave this place with me?” he said and squinted his eyes towards the exit of the cave. “Let’s leave this place,” he smiled, bringing Mo’s hands to his lips and kissing his fingers one by one, repeatedly. There it was again, that sweet scent and soft touch. The touch of an angel should burn, should burn so horribly that he should be in agony just by being near him, nevermind touching him. He had seen others of his kind not even being able to stand in the presence of some angels; they would cower into shadows, hiding until the dangers had passed. But maybe that, too, was a self-made Hell, a belief so ingrained in a demon's essence that they would fear the simple presence of a celestial being.

“You don’t seem to fear divine retribution, demon,” Mo smiled gently pulling him closer, his hand cupping Tian’s cheek. 

“Tian, the name is Tian,” the demon insisted. “I trust that whatever retribution is about to come will strike thee as well. If we perish, this time we perish together…,” he chuckled and turned his head, his lips hovering over Mo’s. 

“So you’re saying that you’re ready to die for me?” Mo asked, his lips even closer, softly grazing against Tian’s in return.

“I should have done that ages ago anyway,” the demon managed to whisper until his lips finally were sealed with a kiss. He remembered those kisses, Mo had rarely been the one to initiate closeness or seek it even back then. He had always been too proud to show his affection so openly to a noble, someone he needed to despise, but when he did, the world would cease to exist for Tian just like now. Warmth spread through his ice-cold limbs, and once again, like a soaring bird guided by the sun, he felt the need to be nearer, needing that comfort, his light. Yet his darkness did not melt away as their bodies pulled closer, it swirled and danced around Mo’s light, flickering like the flame of a candle, but did not extinguish. “We play well together,” he said as he watched their forms harmonising.

Watching the game of light and shadow, Mo smiled then nodded, “Indeed…,” he said, and when Tian looked back at him, he cupped his cheeks in his warm hands. Another kiss followed, deeper still, lingering and longing. He could remember now how it all had been, the rush of running away from the guards just to be able to steal a single kiss from his lover, hiding in the shadows of the palace to be able to touch him, promising each other forever when forever had never been an option for them.

“So it was not your darkness that made me fall…,” Mo finally said as he broke the kiss, “but my own fear of what that it meant…,” he added, his hand still cupping the demon’s cheek and for a moment he could see the young noble he had once loved staring right back at him. 

“Isn’t that always what makes us fall to our demise? Our fears?”

“Or too much courage…,” Mo silently chuckled, briefly stopping as he felt the shudder of dark wings and bright feathers. 

“Come out with me…,” Tian whispered, his form gliding from corner to corner of the cave as though he was avoiding the thin rays of light that filtered through the curtain of ivy. 

“Walk the earth again?” Mo asked and looked towards the exit of the grotto.

“Like the old days…,” Tian smiled, extending a dark hand to him, “but whatever comes, this time I’m not letting go…,” he whispered, and the more he moved towards the light, the more his form took shape. It was hideous to look at, at first, distorted and dark, but then the familiar shape of Tian’s body rose before Mo.

“I know you…,” Mo smiled and felt the pull of his hand.

“I know you do,” Tian answered but finally sighed, relieved.

“In that case, I should thank you for waiting,” Mo chuckled and followed Tian.

"I'll think of ways you could repay that patience," Tian grinned, gently pulling him after him.

Pondering for a moment, Mo briefly glanced over his shoulder at his wings, now glowing, then gently folded them around his shoulders. In the end, his fall had not been his feelings, but his fear, a fear that now had been swallowed by his acceptance… and now, for the first time in millennia, he could walk free, they both could.


End file.
